Angel Wings
by MsSailorman
Summary: "'Jesus, Bella' Alice shouted at me. I blinked repeatedly. I couldn't help myself. He'd been leaning over the dishwasher to put his coffee mug away and my eyes just . . . slipped. It wasn't my fault. His ass was just so . . . so . . . perfect. Round, taut, wrapped in denim. Yummy." Bella is infatuated with her best friend's father and his extraordinary rear.
1. The Seduction

**Just reviving a little one shot I did for Halloween three or four years ago. Since the season is almost upon us, I figured it couldn't hurt.**

**-MsSailorman**

***V*V*V*V***

"Jesus, Bella!" Alice shouted at me.

I blinked repeatedly. I couldn't help myself. He'd been leaning over the dishwasher to put his coffee mug away and my eyes just . . . slipped. It wasn't my fault. His ass was just so . . . so . . . _perfect. _Round, taut, wrapped in denim. Yummy.

Alice's fist came down on the homework scattered across her kitchen table. She'd called me over here for a last minute calculus cram session. And I was staring at Mr. Edward Masen, her father. Creepy? Tell me about it.

Mr. Masen quickly straightened out in confusion, looking at his daughter with surprise. The poor guy had just been doing the dishes with no clue as why his one and only child was suddenly furious.

I'd once confessed that I found her father attractive (only because I had been lulled into a false sense of security by a slumber party rendition of "Truth or Dare") and she hadn't let it go. She always smacked me when I stared too often, sometimes teasing me about it to make the situation less awkward. But there was a lot more stress over it now because that fateful admission had been over five years ago and this crush, this obsession, this _lust_ had only grown in intensity. My eighteenth birthday was next week (on Halloween actually) and it was plain to see that Alice was getting . . . _antsy. _I would be a legal adult after all.

But I had no plans to _actually _do anything. Was looking such a crime? My eyes trained back on Mr. Masen's furrowed brow, bright green eyes ensnaring me as they had done since puberty.

Alice quite literally shoved me out of my chair and onto the floor before stomping off to her room.

"Alice Masen!" her father yelled at her.

_Ignore his sexy voice, Bella. You can do it. It's called willpower._

Alice didn't listen, making sure every footfall from her diminutive frame was heard as she pounded up the stairs, slamming her door closed when she reached the top. I loved Alice, but being an only child had not done wonders for her tantrum phase.

I clearly deserved the indignation, but she was PMS-ing or something. "Shit," I mumbled, sitting up and moaning at the blossoming pain at the back of my head.

Mr. Masen rushed to my side, looking concerned and touching my shoulder as he crouched on the floor next to me.

Heat spread through my belly at the physical contact, even if it was paternal in nature. I briefly envisioned us tangled in the clean, blue sheets of his king sized bed upstairs before sighing. Nobody could say I did emotional masochism half-assed.

_ I should get hurt more often. _This was, of course, a ridiculous notion considering I was on a first name basis with the entire emergency room staff at the hospital. I was there enough without intentionally trying to inflict harm. To put it simply, I fell down. A lot.

"Are you ok? What was that all about?"

"Oh, nothing," I lied, biting my lip.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Bella, my daughter doesn't push her best friend to the floor without a reason. What happened? One second you were talking about homework and the next, she's running off. I was right there. What the hell happened?" His tone disintegrated into hopeless confusion. Even as Alice's sole guardian, he was still at a loss towards the emotional shifts of teenage girls. Of course, I could also pinpoint the moment he had given up attempting to truly understand; he hadn't had a clue since Alice came out as a lesbian. While he'd been accepting, I figured, as a single father, he was out of his league.

"I'll explain later, Mr. Masen." _Like hell, I will. I would rather dig my own grave with a pair of chopsticks. _"I'm going to let Alice calm down a bit. In the meantime, may I please have an icepack?" I winced when I felt the back of my head, spreading my fingers across what was rapidly becoming a bump. Perhaps Alice thought brain damage via a marble floor would cure me of my sexual appetite for anything Edward Masen. Of course, looking up at his face – the only lines at his eyes and mouth where he had smiled – I knew that plan had failed miserably.

Calming down a bit, he managed to make a joke as he popped open the freezer to extract the icepack – Jesus Christ, his _ass_. I tried to memorize the sight before he turned back around. "I think this is the first time I've given you an icepack that hasn't been used for a self-inflicted injury."

I snorted.

_Ick, Bella. Don't make that sound again. Not attractive._

"No, Alice accidentally broke my wrist when we were seven, remember?" Of course he'd remember. He'd been the one to drive me to the emergency room. Those had been simpler days, back before my crush, when he had just been my friend's dad. But gradually, I had noticed his good looks in that shy, self-conscious way thirteen-year-olds do when they develop a crush. It was innocent enough. I dressed up nicer when I went to Alice's house, sat up a bit straighter when he entered a room, blushed when he looked at me. Of course, as I grew older, that embarrassed awareness had expanded. Through the magic of Internet porn and teenage boys, I had learned about my body, experienced some enlightening things, and cultivated explicit daydreams that tantalized and haunted me.

"Oh, yes, I _do _remember," he laughed. "Whose genius idea was it to fit both of you on one bicycle?"

"Alice's," I said with a grin. "Definitely Alice's."

Our fingers touched as he handed me the icepack and I relished the contact, shivering a bit. But maybe that was just from the cold. I pressed it to the back of my head and groaned at how freezing and satisfying it was against my abused noggin. Keeping my gaze trained downwards because Mr. Masen was kneeling next to me now and I thought I would faint, I focused on his hands instead. They were large, I thought, with long, slender fingers. He didn't have a wedding ring. He'd divorced Alice's mother just months after Alice was born; I had never met her and never wanted to. They'd married young, reproduced young, and divorced young – which I guess tended to happen when your wife slept with her younger sister's husband. I would say it was a shame, but it eased my conscience a bit that even if he was my best friend's dad, at least he wasn't married. I had to have some standards.

_Some, but not many._

"Then there was that time that you sprained your ankle tripping over the dog," he reminisced.

Those hands looked so beautiful. I loved the tiny, golden hairs that started at his wrists.

I shook myself out my daze. Why was I thinking about this? I had big problems to worry about. Alice was pissed. And I had the hots for her father. And I knew that was a big problem because Edward Masen couldn't be anything _but _big, judging by the way his jeans contoured around his front side. The man was kneeling next to me; of course I looked. Yes, a _very _big problem.

_Get your mind out of the gutter._

"How's your head feeling?"

_How's _your _head feeling, Edward? You know, the fun one?_

"Slightly concussed," I joked, but then answered more seriously. "It aches a bit, but I'll be fine. No need to worry."

He nodded and we both stood in the kitchen awkwardly. As much as I'd like to delude myself that it was the sexual tension that made it awkward, I tried to remind myself that it was pointless, that Mr. Masen would always be unattainable. As well he should be. What kind of shitty friend would I be if I slept with my best friend's dad?

_Who said you'd be sleeping? You'd be wide awake all night long if you were with _him.

I shook my head at my thoughts. My silver vibrator was lying in the bottom of my dresser drawer and I fully intended to use it when I got home. However there was a fatal flaw in that plan of action. Leaving Alice to stew was never a good idea. She was a grudge-holder as evidenced by the fact that she still occasionally brought up the time I accidentally ran over her favorite Barbie Doll with my bicycle and smashed in its little, cheerful face. I sighed. We had such a long history together and I knew it would be better to stick this one out and face the music.

I set the icepack on the kitchen counter, resolved. "I'm going to go talk to Alice now. Wish me luck. And don't punish her. I kind of deserved it."

He gave me a _look_, the kind that said: _are-you-fucking-crazy? _"I hardly believe you deserve to be thrown to the floor."

_Why must he look so perfectly sexy? _

Swallowing guiltily, I mumbled, "Trust me, I deserve it." I trudged up to Alice's room, knocking softly.

"Bella, go away," was her immediate response.

_Someone's feeling friendly today._

"I'm sorry, ok? I can't help it. You know how you tell me that homosexuals are born with it and they can't control it? Well, think of me as a straight homosexual." I was sure that had I been speaking to Alice face-to-face as opposed to her door, I would have seen her '_Bella's-lost-her-mind' _expression. It seemed to be a genetic thing around here.

She flung the door open, her face bright red with anger. "Do _not _use my homosexuality as an excuse, Bella."

"Alice, that wasn't what I was doing. I'm just trying to make you understand." I sighed and entered the room, knowing she wouldn't have opened the door if I wasn't allowed in. It was a familiar place to me, though it proved how incorrect lesbian stereotypes were. One look at Alice's room and it was obvious that she didn't possess a single butch bone in her body. Her room was pale pink and frilly beyond belief. Frilly curtains, frilly bedspread, frilly clothes. As if all that wasn't enough, she had stuffed animals lining her bed like tiny, furry guardians.

Shutting the door behind her, Alice grabbed her stuffed teddy bear and held it close to her chest. God, that was a bad sign. She only cuddled with her stuffed animals if she was _really _upset. And I felt like an asshole because I'd upset her and couldn't control my wandering eyes.

"How on Earth am I supposed to understand the fact that you want to get all pervy with my _dad_?!"

"Shut up!" I hissed. "He's downstairs! What if he hears you?"

She rolled her eyes. "This is fucking sick, Bella. _Sick._"

"You don't think I know that? Believe me, if I had a choice, I'd move onto another fish in the pond of Forks. But I can't help it," I whined, pressing my back against her door and sliding onto the floor into a miserable puddle.

"He's so _old."_

"Christ, he's only thirty-nine."

"_Only?_" Alice whispered incredulously. She shook her head, looking for all the world like she was going to strangle her poor teddy bear.

"I can't help it," I insisted again. "Just like you can't help being a lesbian."

Her eyes grew pensive. "That's not fair, you know."

Mr. Masen knocked on the door.

I scrambled away from it and hurriedly stood up, letting him in immediately whether Alice approved or not. I hated this part, though. The part where he would act like a parent and make himself seem older than the hip guy he actually was.

"Alice, would you care to explain that little exhibit down there?"

"Nope," she said simply. She gave me a pointed glare as if to say 'you're so lucky I'm feeling generous today.'

Mr. Masen clearly wasn't going to accept that as an answer. He waited with crossed arms.

"Bella just confessed to me that she's also a lesbian and I shoved her because I was mad she hadn't told me sooner. Friends tell their friends this stuff."

Back the fuck up. What the fuckity fuck did she just fucking say?

His eyes got all huge.

Alice was an evil genius. I either had to go with being a lesbian and therefore, he wouldn't think I had any interest. Or I could say she was lying and tell the truth about why she'd shoved me, which I would never do. Evil, but definitely a genius.

Mr. Masen coughed uncomfortably and shifted his eyes between Alice and me. "Um, Bella, is that true?" _Yup. Someone also wrote 'gullible' on the ceiling._

I was stuck. I'd rather die than have him find out I'd been crushing on him since I was thirteen. "Um, yeah, it's true," I said faintly, my lips stiff.

Alice looked satisfied, relinquishing her death grip on the teddy bear and patting its head.

"Wow," Mr. Masen breathed, his expression still shocked. One of his hands lifted to scratch the back of his head like he was uncomfortable. "Uh, I guess I'll just leave you two to talk then. You must have a lot to say to each other." He turned to leave, but paused with an afterthought, wincing a bit. "Under the circumstances, I think you two should leave the door open from now on."

My jaw dropped. He actually thought his daughter and I were going to get our funk on?

"Are you fucking serious?" Alice asked for me, looking scandalized. Her evil plotting had obviously backfired.

Mr. Masen nodded. "Watch your language, young lady."

"We've been friends since preschool, Dad! Jesus Christ, Bella _just _came out of the closet and you're already assuming we're going to have sex? You never even cared before! That's just . . . just, _ugh_! Get out of my room!"

Alice's PMS was _really _bad. She always swore when she got pissed off, but it usually wasn't aimed at her father. I guessed that he didn't see this side of Alice nearly as often as I did.

Mr. Masen was frozen in the doorway in shock, clearly struggling to amend his words somehow.

Alice launched her beloved teddy bear at him and he ducked out of the way, shutting the door behind him. She gave a relieved sigh when he left. "'Keep the door open'," she mimicked in an unflattering voice. "He's crazy."

"_You _are crazy. I can't believe you told him I'm a lesbian!" I exclaimed, tacking on with a hint of disappointment, "Or that he bought it."

Alice giggled, suddenly no anger to be found. "Oh god, that was fucking hilarious. I can't believe I kept a straight face."

I glared. "What happens if I decide to get a boyfriend? What the hell is he going to think then?"

She shrugged. "I'll just tell him you're bisexual. Simple enough."

"Why are we friends? Remind me."

"Because when you're not staring at my dad's ass, you're a pretty cool chick and I'm pretty cool in return."

_Ok, that's true. It's a shame he has such a fine ass, though._

I twirled a lock of hair around my fingers. A topic change was in order. I'd claw her throat out some other time. Wouldn't want to get bloodstains on her frilly, pink bed. "So, are you coming to the party?"

"Of course I am!" Alice cried. "Hey, just because you're a complete pervert and want to fuck my dad doesn't mean I'd skip your birthday party."

I narrowed my eyes. "Gee, thanks, Alice," I grumbled sarcastically, though I did not deny her charges.

She patted the bed in apology, offering me a seat next to her. "Do you want your present now or later?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I told you not to get me anything."

"Well, I ignored you. I think you should just have your present now. You might need it." Alice's head disappeared underneath her bed for a moment before withdrawing an unopened bottle of vodka. She placed it in my hands and patted my back. "Happy birthday."

"Don't you mean 'happy Halloween'?" I snorted, perpetually annoyed by the shared festivities. "And seriously? You know, you're supposed to get people alcohol on their twenty-first birthday, not their eighteenth."

She shrugged. "Just pretend you're European. They have the right idea."

I rolled my eyes.

She stuck her tongue out at me in return.

"Oh, baby, don't taunt me with that tongue of yours. Now that I'm a lesbian and all, that tongue is just looking so sexy," I moaned in a fake porn star voice.

Alice hit me with a stuffed, pink unicorn. "Shut up. My tongue is awesome. You're just not cool enough to know the insane pleasure it brings."

I rolled my eyes. "Get me drunk enough and maybe I'll find out. I bet that's why you bought me booze in the first place."

"Puh-lease."

I snickered a little bit. "You want to get me drunk and take advantage of my poor, virginal self," I continued.

"Virginal, my ass," she laughed.

"I mean virgin as my homosexual virginity," I defended hotly. "I've only slept with Jake. Besides, you used to have a different guy over every week."

"That was before I figured out that I was a lesbian. I was trying to discover myself."

"Is that your excuse for hooking up with _Mike Newton?" _I said the name with disgust because even I couldn't believe Alice would sink so low.

Her voice was dark. "I told you not to mention that. After that particular encounter, I was _sure _that I was a lesbian."

"I just can't believe you had to 'discover yourself' through Mike."

"I was attracted to him." Alice shrugged. "I think everyone is attracted to both genders at least a little bit. They just feel more strongly about one over the other."

"So you're attracted to guys then?"

"They're nice to look at sometimes," she said casually. "But seriously, sex is a lot better with girls than it is with guys. Girls actually know what they're doing. They're softer, their hair is easier to grab, and they know what to do." Alice's voice got all breathy at the end, her mind obviously somewhere else.

I tapped her shoulder. "Um, Alice?"

Her eyes refocused. "Oh, sorry. I got a bit distracted." The skin along her cheekbones was dusted with pink. "I was thinking about Rose."

Ah, yes, Rosalie Hale. She was straight and dating a hulking football player named Emmett. But, of course, she was disgustingly beautiful and Alice admired her from afar.

"Maybe we _should _leave the door open. You may just pounce on the nearest vagina out of horniness." I jokingly crossed my legs and covered my nether regions with my arms.

Alice, tiring of my sarcasm, smacked me with a pillow again. "Ok, ok, stop with the lesbian jokes. I've only heard them about a zillion times."

Nudging her, I put on a peacemaking expression. "It's all in good fun."

"Yeah, _your _fun."

"Sorry, Alice."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you on Halloween, asshat. I'll drop by your house early for the party to help you get ready."

I nodded. "See you then." I handed her the bottle of vodka, knowing I couldn't smuggle it in to my house. "Hang onto this until Halloween, 'kay? I'll probably need the alcohol to get through the night," I joked. I was not big on the whole party thing. Or Halloween. Or people.

Alice laughed and waved me off. "Bye, lesbian."

"Bye, lesbian," I repeated, though, of course, I was being truthful.

I trundled down the steps and nearly tripped over the last one, arrested by the sight that waited for me. Mr. Masen was sitting in an armchair in the living room, a glass of scotch in one hand, his white button up undone enough so that I could see the golden chest hair peeking out. He had started a fire in the fireplace, the orange light illuminating him in a sultry way that glinted off of his copper hair and bright eyes.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, nodding at the glass, my voice sounding far more relaxed than I felt. He wasn't really a casual drinker as far as I had observed.

Startled, he jerked his eyes up to meet mine before focusing his gaze a few inches above my left ear. God, so green. I wanted to look at him forever. "Oh, no occasion. Just calming my nerves a bit." He sounded so awkward.

_Oh, right. He thinks I'm a lesbian. No wonder he's uncomfortable._

"So, did you and Alice talk?"

"No, not really. I mean, I've been dying to have sex with her for a long time and we finally did, but I don't think that counts as talking." Maybe just physically holding a bottle of vodka had given me irrational courage because I had no idea where the fuck that came from. I just wanted to see his reaction, see if he _actually _thought the _Open Door Policy _was necessary.

His eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped, a few drops of his scotch spilling out of the glass as his hand trembled. He made odd choking noises, his eyes no longer hovering above my ear, but focused on me.

"Jesus, I'm just kidding," I laughed, suddenly pleased with myself. I had captured his attention.

He laughed along uneasily, hooking his finger into the collar of his shirt and pulling it away from his suddenly sweaty neck. Sweet Jesus, even his neck was sexy. There was a moment of silence in which he downed the rest of the amber liquid in his glass before more of it could escape. He contemplated it for a moment before leaning forward to pour himself some more from the bottle on the coffee table.

"Alice and I are just friends, you know. Don't worry."

"You could have just answered, 'Yeah, we talked'," he muttered, brooding over his glass.

"Where's the fun in that?"

His eyes narrowed, though his mouth quirked in a way that told me he wasn't truly mad. "Because giving me a heart attack is so,_ so_ funny."

"Hilarious," I said, deadpan.

"How's your head, by the way?"

Having forgotten that it hurt until he mentioned it, I winced, letting my fingers drift up to my skull. "It's ok. I've had worse." I sighed because that was all too true. "Well, I'm heading back home. Thanks for letting me hang out here." Now I was the one that sounded awkward. I usually didn't thank him. I practically lived here.

He frowned a bit. "You're welcome anytime, Bella. You know that."

I nodded. "Yeah, but thanks all the same. And sorry about Alice yelling at you. She's just sensitive about the topic. She was in a bit of shock, too. You know, since I just whispered it to her at the table," I muttered, going along with Alice's lie.

"I hope I didn't _actually _offend you. I mean, I realize that you, uh, just came out. I'm sorry for making assumptions I shouldn't have been making." He took a pull from his drink.

"I'm not offended." _Because I have nothing to be offended about._

"You seem pretty at ease about the whole thing," he remarked. "Alice was a nervous wreck when she told me."

"I know. I was there," I reminded him. I'd been moral support.

"Yeah," he recalled with a slight smile. "You were. You've always been there for Alice."

I shrugged, crossing an arm across my torso. "She's been there for me, too."

A new thought occurred to him. "Do your parents know?"

"No, I haven't told them yet. And I'd appreciate it if you kept this quiet." It was bad enough that one person thought I was a lesbian; he didn't need to be spreading it around. It wasn't that I would have been ashamed, but it simply wasn't true.

"Of course, Bella."

I loved when he said my name. Again, I pictured us on his big bed, his mouth close to my ear, breathing my name out like it was holy as he filled me.

"Well," I cleared my throat when I was silent for too long, staring into his eyes, "I should probably be heading home."

"All right. And I know it's your birthday next week. So in case I don't see you, happy eighteenth." He smiled warmly, raising his glass, which he'd managed to empty again.

I was feeling impulsive. "Well, come to the party. Halloween at my house. Wear a costume." I didn't let him say anything before abruptly departing.

_Yeah, right. The odds of him showing up at that party are a million to one._

*V*V*V*V*

As Alice had promised, she showed up early on Halloween to help me get ready. I was almost completely convinced that nobody would show up because they'd be busy trick-or-treating which was exactly why I scheduled the party for today. A very large portion of me was holding out hope for minimal attendance.

Alice interfered with my hopeful thoughts by saying, "Stop making that face at me. I'm just trying to help you."

I sighed and pouted more.

"This party was your idea in the first place!"

"Yeah, but when I said 'party', I meant like, the two of us having some cake and going to see a movie or something, not inviting the whole school up to my house for some sort of costume party! You're the one that made the guest list!"

"It's your eighteenth birthday. I'm not going to let you sit around on your ass all day and let a huge milestone just pass you by."

I threw myself dramatically onto my bed facedown, groaning into my pillow.

Alice chucked something at me, hitting me in the ass.

"Hey!" I said indignantly, looking around to see what she'd thrown and rubbing my bruised posterior. It was the bottle of vodka she'd tried to give me before.

"Drink a few sips of that to chill out and then get dressed. I'm going to go and set out the food. When I get back, I want you to have gotten your ass into that costume," she ordered. Alice was like a drill sergeant sometimes, I swear.

Closing my door behind her, she marched down the stairs in a decidedly non-drill sergeant way.

I sighed and eyed my "costume". It scared me a bit. I wasn't sure exactly what I was supposed to be. It was a stiff white bodice with sequins and chiffon and a puffy white skirt, heavy on the glitter. I stared at it skeptically. There was a sudden realization of why Alice had waited until the last second to show me what costume she wanted me to wear as I fruitlessly searched for the rest of it – there wasn't much of it.

I said a few choice words before sighing. Alice had sounded like she meant business, so I slid into the thing, hopping up and down in attempt to slide it up my body. Of course, this just resulted in me falling on my ass as I floundered like I was having a seizure. Huffing in supreme exasperation, I sprawled out on the floor, pressed my heels down, and arched my butt off the ground to tug the damn thing into place. Upon self-inspection in the mirror, I decided that I looked like a ballerina from hell (that puffy skirt looked more like a tutu now that it was riding up my ass) because of the disgruntled expression on my face and the hair that had fallen out of my ponytail upon being acquainted with my floor.

My attention was diverted by Alice's furious knocking on my door. She didn't wait for my response before bursting in. She stopped dead in her tracks though once she saw me.

My face burned crimson. "What?" I looked down to see if one of my nipples was hanging out or something.

"Bella, you're beautiful." Before I could even open my mouth, she added, "And I mean that in a non-sexual way."

I smiled that she read my mind. "Thanks. But I think you're biased. You picked this thing out after all." Pinching a bit of loose chiffon between my fingers, I lifted it away from my body and watched it fall back down again.

Alice shook her head vehemently as she went behind me to tighten up all the laces on the corset. "No, honestly. You look awesome. You're going to have guys running after you at the party tonight."

"I hope not."

"Well, this is your opportunity since your parents won't be home. Go get laid or something."

I rolled my eyes. Charlie and Renee were being very trusting to allow me such freedom; then again, I had never done much of anything to deserve suspicion. However, no amount of lacking supervision was going to get me laid tonight. There was only one guy I had my eyes on. And unfortunately, he was off limits.

"Hello, earth to Bella?" Alice waved her hand in front of my face when I got caught up in thoughts of a certain . . . um, forbidden fruit.

"Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

She didn't respond verbally, but smacked me upside the head, right where I had injured it in her kitchen. "Stop thinking pervy thoughts about my father."

"Ouch, Jesus Christ, woman!" I shouted, rubbing my poor skull. "Besides, I wasn't –," I began.

Alice cut me off. "I know that look. Stop it. It's gross and disturbing."

_And sexy as hell, _my brain added.

She smacked me again on the arm. Jeez, had she always been this violent? "Hey, focus. It's party time. Drink some alcohol, jump into bed with a guy you hardly know, and _forget about my father._"

"Seriously, that's your advice? Get drunk and sleep with someone? What kind of best friend are you?"

Alice raised an eyebrow at me as if to ask me what kind of friend _I _was.

With that silent exchange, we both went quiet and Alice started to do my makeup. There was a weird tension now, like some line had been crossed, though I wasn't quite sure what exactly had triggered it. I hadn't done anything worse than usual. Refusing to let myself ponder it too long, I instead drew my attention towards the makeup Alice had brought in a large bag. All of it was shimmery and sparkly and powdery and etc.

"What exactly am I supposed to be anyway?" I asked somewhat tentatively, both frightened to appear stupid for asking and to break the silence.

"An angel," she answered softly.

My gut reaction was to snort. _I do believe I've just been metaphorically crushed by the irony. _"No wings?"

Alice seemed to fight a smile before surrendering to a wide grin. She dropped the makeup brush she was holding and dove under my bed, retrieving a garment bag that I hadn't known was there. It was oddly misshapen. Gliding down the zipper, Alice unearthed a pair of delicate, silky wings. There was a wire framework and sheer fabric was wrapped around it in gossamer folds.

They were beautiful.

"Alice . . ." I began, but didn't finish.

She smiled. "Put them on. I want to see how you look."

Slipping the straps around my shoulders, I took a look in the mirror. The sublime creature was unrecognizable, the makeup Alice had done otherworldly. My skin shimmered and glowed. It looked like there were tiny diamonds embedded in my skin and the wings made me look taller somehow, my neck longer, more elegant.

"Whoa," I murmured.

A door bell rang downstairs.

"People are here. Are you ready for an awesome birthday, Bella?"

I grabbed the bottle of vodka from where it had lain forgotten and held it tightly. "Yeah, I'm ready."

*V*V*V*V*

I was a little drunk. The music was way too loud. I never thought I'd live to see the day that a mass of inebriated teenagers did the grind in the chief of police's living room. I never thought I'd live to see the day that I joined them, cheerfully pouring shots of my vodka into people's cups when they asked for some, spilling frequently as I tried to dance and pour the same time. I was mercifully kept from death-by-trampling with Alice's hand on my arm.

"I don't think I should dance anymore," I yelled over the music. Or at least, that's what I thought I said. It came out sounding garbled.

Alice looked at me in confusion.

I just shook my head – holy shit, that was not a good idea – and made my way through the party, smiling politely when people told me happy birthday as I stumbled through to the back porch.

I gratefully stepped out into the night air, closing the sliding door behind me and marveling at how quiet it seemed now as I gripped my quickly draining bottle of vodka. I hadn't meant to get drunk. I'd had a few sips before the party to take the edge off and somehow kept returning to the bottle as more and more people showed up, crowding around me. Navigating my yard – not the easiest task when buzzed in the dark – I leaned against the large oak tree there, sipping occasionally and only managing to ruffle my wings a little bit. While they looked beautiful, they were a gigantic pain in the ass. I'd been knocking into people and getting them snagged on everything, bending the wire frame several times – not exactly a good accessory for someone clumsy like me.

Musing over how long it would take people to notice I was missing from my own birthday party, I laughed to myself and brought the bottle to my lips once more, relaxing immediately from the stress having a party caused for an introvert like me. Feeling the tension releasing from my shoulders, I failed to notice the bobbing, white sheet heading in my direction until a voice called out.

"Drinking is bad for you, you know."

I knew that voice. Squinting in the dark, I vainly tried to make out a definite shape. "Mr. Masen?"

"Not tonight. I'm Casper."

He was wearing a sheet draped over his head with holes cut out for eyes.

I gave him an incredulous expression, starting to laugh. "_This _is what you came dressed as?" That sheet looked exactly like the one they kept in their linen closet and I was willing to bet it was, in fact, one and the same.

"Hey, this was a split decision. This was all I could find. The only other option was an old Peter Pan outfit I wore to take Alice trick-or-treating years ago. Tights included."

My chest constricted at the mention of Alice. "What are you doing here?" It came out a bit harsher than I intended.

"You invited me," he laughed, sounding a bit curious at my tone.

"Yeah, but –," I floundered. "Well, I didn't actually expect you to show up."

"I figured that some supervision might be a good idea." Thankfully, he took the ridiculous sheet off, revealing a button down shirt and jeans – his usually attire. Of course, I immediately wished he'd put that sheet right back on when I noticed his stern expression as he eyed my vodka. I hated the Dad routine. "I'm disappointed in you, Bella."

This was, of course, coming from the man that had been downing scotch last week. However, I was a bit too drunk to be ashamed, rebelliously clutching it tighter in my hands, defending the bottle. "One night of fun isn't going to kill me."

"You don't look like you're having fun. You look like you're brooding all by yourself."

"So stay with me and I won't," I replied. Whoa, where did that come from? I should probably stop drinking.

He laughed again, though it sounded nervous somehow. "How drunk are you?"

"Drunk enough."

"Enough for what?"

"Probably to do something stupid." I met his bright green eyes for a moment before eyeing the ground.

Mr. Masen leaned against the tree next to me, maneuvering with his sheet until it resembled a toga. Considering he already looked like a Greek god, the coincidence was not lost on me. "Nice wings," he commented.

"I'm an angel," I said unnecessarily.

"I was going to guess the Patron Saint of Booze and Dance, but an angel works, too." He smirked at me.

God, that smirk.

"Pfft, booze and dance? That's lame. I don't dance."

"No?"

"I didn't even want a party, but your demon spawn made me," I said, pouting up at him.

"Oh, I believe you. This didn't seem quite your style."

Suddenly, I felt glum. Was he saying I wasn't social? That I was a loser? "How would you know?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"You've known me forever, but that doesn't mean you _know_ me." It came out sounding exactly as drunk as I felt and every bit the petulant teenager I tried not to be.

"I _know_ you," he disagreed, drawing out the word like I had.

"You know me as a kid." I drank again, wondering where the hell I was going with this, but powerless to stop the crazy train. "I've grown. I've changed. I'm more of an adult now."

"You have grown," he said indulgently, absently tugging at his impromptu toga. "You're a fine young woman."

I scoffed.

"What?"

"You sound like a Hallmark card. I've had sex before. Did you know that?" _Yeah, keep the crazy train chugging. You're doing great, honey._

Suddenly his coloring paled, literally as white as the sheet he wore. Wide eyed, he shook his head – slowly. No, he didn't know? Or no, he didn't want me to continue speaking?

"No, I guess you wouldn't. I swore Alice to secrecy. But I do like sex. A lot," I slurred, grinning. "But I was never in love with the guy, you know? I was all stuck on someone else that I would rather have been having sex with."

He began to look uncomfortable. "Bella, if this is about what happened earlier . . . about your sexual orientation –,"

I cut him off, snorting derisively. "Do you honestly think I'm a lesbian? Seriously?"

"Um, yes?"

"I'm straight, dude. Alice lied." _Yeah, just keep drinking, Bella. Great idea. Drink vodka. Inhale. Exhale. Drink some more._

"What?"

I kept going as if he hadn't spoken. "I just can't believe that you bought it!" I said, tossing one hand in the air with an exasperated gesture. And suddenly, I knew exactly where this train was going. "Didn't you ever notice? Were you that blind?"

He scratched his head. "I know you had that boyfriend, Jake, for a while –," he began.

"It's been you!" I nearly shouted. "It's always been you. Haven't you seen how I look at you? How I blush every time you're near me? Jesus Christ. Alice was angry with me because I want you to fuck me, not because I'm a lesbian. It was you," I repeated, feeling tired now. It was crass and drunken, but I'd never meant anything more.

Mr. Masen choked on his own saliva somewhere in the middle of my speech, his eyes widening in surprise. I never mentioned anything even remotely sex-related in front of him excluding my random bout of courage last week, so I could imagine this was a harsh wake up call given how quickly this conversation had degenerated. "Bella." He sounded shocked and scared.

"I'll prove it."

I grabbed the back of his neck and tugged myself close to him, pressing my body flush against his, for once not thinking, but simply feeling. And for a few glorious moments, I felt incredulous as his lips moved in kind, soft against my most likely sloppy kiss. His hands came up around my waist to pull me tighter for a moment. I was trembling like a leaf, quaking against him with the intensity of the emotion I was experience. So long. I'd waited so long for this. Or maybe I was just in shock. Either way, the sound of my brief gasping breath seemed to startle him.

He pushed me away.

Breathing heavily, I stared at Mr. Masen, feeling my bottom lip swell from where his teeth had bit me, wondering what the hell I was doing. He was probably wondering the same thing.

"Fuck," he swore to himself, my real cue that I had messed something up. This was the man that had admonished Alice for the very same word last week. "Bella . . . Christ, you don't have to prove anything to me. I'm old enough to be your father." He sounded angry now, looking at me like I'd burned him, hands balled into fists.

My own voice was cold. How dare he kiss me back and then rebuke me? "If you think I'm not perfectly aware of that fact, then you are sadly mistaken. And I know you're aware of it, but you kissed me anyway. So do me a favor and just shut up." Drunken Me pounced at him again, hanging on tightly. It was about a nanosecond into that second impulsive kiss that he responded by groaning, defeated, into my mouth, gripping my waist tighter than before and mashing his lips against mine, his tongue sliding against my own.

Whoa, Masen can kiss. He'd been holding out on me.

The kiss ended abruptly with him shoving me away _again_, bending one of my wings irreparably in the process. "I can't! God, help me. I just can't. You're so young."

I felt like I might cry. "I don't know a lot of shit, ok? I don't know what I want to do with my life and I don't have all the practical life experience that seems required to be considered an adult, but I know with unwavering certainty that I want you and I'll probably spend the rest of my life dying of embarrassment over this night, but you at least need to know that."

"Jesus," he repeated, fisting his hair in anxiety. "Look, I knew, ok?"

"What?"

"I knew you had a crush on me. I thought it was cute for a while. But once you got older . . . it wasn't the same. It's so wrong. I know I'm such a sick fuck, but god, I _looked _at you. You and Al –," he stopped as if he was choking. "You came over to swim at the pool and when I looked out the window, you were . . . you had that bikini on and your hair was all wet. It was – I saw that you weren't a child. I'm not a saint, but you were – are – so beautiful. But of course I held back. You were sixteen. I had – have – no right. Not even now. You're the same age as her. Alice . . . Jesus. I'm turning forty in June, Isabella," he pleaded, as if begging would shut off my attraction for him.

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Seriously? He'd wanted me, too?

I pushed myself back into his personal space and started to unzip his jeans underneath that stupid sheet toga before he jerked away.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"One night. That's what I want. Something I can remember. We don't have to talk about it afterwards. Just this one time," I promised, grasping at straws to seize this opportunity that was being dangled in front of my face. I could live with myself if we had one night together, one night to carry with me, to scratch my long-suffering itch.

He groaned. "Why do you make this sound so easy when it's so fucked up?"

"Because I want it so badly," I whined. "And you do, too."

"You're drunk," he stated, his voice resembling a man resigning himself to his own death.

"You should be, too. That would make this a lot easier."

Apparently he agreed, because he grabbed my bottle of vodka out of my and downed the rest like a desperate man, letting it fall on the ground, barely registering its dull thud on the grass. I stared at it for a moment, mesmerized at the irony. Alice had given me that as a birthday gift, yet it was her father that was drinking it.

Without another word, he grabbed my wrist and began purposefully striding towards the forest's edge that marked the end of my yard, not hesitating as he plunged into the thickly grown, dark woods. We didn't go far at all, I thought, though I nearly tripped several times over roots and wet leaves. My mind was in a haze, some kind of numb disbelief. I didn't have the strength to find excitement yet. Maybe he was dragging me around like a caveman to slap the shit out of me for even suggesting such an awful thing.

He halted so quickly that I ran into him, turning abruptly. We were just barely obscured from the house's view and I knew this was intentional. As he grasped my jaw and forced me to look him in the eyes, he towered over me. "One night," he repeated me tonelessly.

I nodded eagerly.

"And we will never speak of this again," he vowed.

More nodding. I would have agreed to anything. I could taste the coppery salt of a drop of blood on my lip where his teeth had done more damage than I realized – I didn't care, barely noticed that it hurt. I wanted more.

The hand that restrained my chin became supple, gentle as his thumb brushed over my cheek. "You're so beautiful. Do you know that?"

I shook my head. "Tell me," I breathed.

"You _are _an angel," he whispered, the bass line of the party's music just barely audible out here, a muted sign that we weren't truly alone on this Earth. "I want you, too."

Those were, perhaps, the most fulfilling words I'd ever heard. _I want you, too. _I hoped I wasn't too drunk to remember that sentence when I was sober again. Almost not believing that I wasn't experiencing a vivid dream, I cupped his face in my hand, feeling stubble and warmth.

He exhaled shakily, his nerves showing through. "I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"You don't have to believe. This is Halloween. Magical shit happens on Halloween, right?"

He laughed harshly, sounding slightly hysterical. I didn't blame him. It was a lame justification, but I was too unfocused from his confirmation that he was indeed going to do this. Whatever 'this' was.

"Kiss me."

Swallowing, he leaned forward, moving his grip to my long hair and pulling me impossibly tighter into him.

I think I may have moaned when his mouth touched mine. I wasn't really sure. The various parts of my body that lit on fire had my attention more than my subconscious vocalizations. And then my hands crawled up his body, quite of their own volition, unzipping his jeans, passing over his erection.

He hissed out a breath, breaking away from the kiss to stiffen up and stare downwards where my hand was cupping him. I could see him being torn looking down at it, loving the sight of it and hating it all at the same time. I could see it on his face. Revulsion and lust. The dude needed more alcohol.

His dick was exactly what I had expected from someone like him: perfect. Not gigantic, definitely not small, thick and slightly intimidating. Perfect. I told him so.

He didn't answer me, his eyes flashing dangerously.

I lowered to my knees, an angel kneeling before a Greek god. Boldly from the alcohol, I gripped his length and flicked out my tongue against the head.

He groaned at that first sensation. And I kept him groaning, wanting to hear that noise always. My tongue was busy, my throat stretching to fit his whole cock in my mouth. His hands were knotted in my hair, encouraging me onwards, begging me to take more, to taste more. I wondered how many times I'd thought about this. Pleasuring him and hearing him say my name as he groaned, feeling his length sliding past my lips and filling my mouth. More importantly, how many times had he imagined the same thing?

Of course, I'd left out the part of that fantasizing in which reality invaded – such as the temperature being cold enough to make hell freeze over and the ground feeling like cement on my bare knees and how my jaw was straining to accommodate Mr. Mas – Edward. If I was giving him a blowjob, I felt I deserved the right to call him by his first name.

Edward.

I tried it out, taking a short pause in my ministrations to breathily say, "Oh, Edward."

That got his attention – as if a blowjob hadn't already – and his eyes jerked to mine, bright green as always while I stared upwards in return. I couldn't understand his expression, but, then again, I was distracted.

"Get up," he ordered harshly.

Confused, I did as he asked, wondering if he didn't like my technique or me using his first name, if he'd changed his mind.

"Hang onto the tree." His voice was angry, like nails scraping me. I didn't care.

The bark was rough and scraggy under my fingertips. My rear was jutted out in perfect vulnerability and Edward took advantage of this, slowly lifting my skirt. He trailed his nails over my thighs to tease me and it raised goose bumps on my skin. The gust of frigid air that hit my exposed skin left me even more desperately turned on and in need of relief.

Edward was taking his sweet time in pushing down my panties – or maybe it wasn't long at all – and lightly gliding a finger over my clit. I shivered at the contact and pushed my ass out further, hoping for him to get the message.

"Please fuck me," I begged when body language failed me. Small splinters were lodged under my nails where I was clinging to the tree anxiously.

Edward groaned a little. I assumed that somewhere in the back of every straight male's brain, there was a little part that was just dying to hear a chick begging to be fucked by him. More animalistic now, he ripped my angel wings off, tossing them at his feet and pressing himself against me.

I felt the tip of his erection, insistent, and I felt a surge of excitement and fear. I couldn't go back from this once it was done. It would be final. I would have always and forever had sex with Mr. Edward Anthony Masen, a man twenty-one years my senior. But then again, why would I want to take it back? I'd only wanted this for how long?

I didn't have time to question as such thoughts fell from my brain in one thrust. Wrong or not, he was not gentle with me. I didn't want him to be. I wanted to be sore, to remember these moments in explicit detail tomorrow when I ached. That's all that I would have, the memories.

Grasping the tree tighter still, I ground my teeth, hissing as I breathed and begged, "Harder." I moaned loudly as he complied, thinking I might break and not caring anyway. I had never been taken this roughly before, never had my hair pulled like a guiding rein. He was everywhere, hands clawing at me even as I reached behind me, touching his abdomen, his thighs, whatever I could reach. It didn't matter.

Every part of me moved to his punishing rhythm and only the protesting in my calves told me how extreme this truly was as I rocked back and forth, barely able to keep from moaning. I might not have noticed otherwise, but he bent low over me, forcing me down further as my legs ached, his hand leaving my hip to coerce my body towards orgasm regardless of my discomfort. He knew what he was doing; I mewled as he working my clit over, concentrated on those indelicate, little circles. Even as our first time – our only time – we were picking up speed together. He was getting close, bowed over my back, his breath harsh in my ear, sounding like music anyway. I was tingling everywhere and my toes dug into the forest floor through my shoes, my body tense. God, so close.

"Bella!" an all-too-familiar voice yelled from the porch.

Alice.

***V*V*V*V***


	2. The Act

**So, after a lot of deliberation, I decided to continue on in the telling of this story. Hope you enjoy.**

**-MsSailorman**

***V*V*V*V***

Edward and I froze in place.

The moment of sheer panic paralyzed me, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead despite the chill.

Edward, after his initial shock, moved faster than anyone I'd ever seen, all but ripping his poorly constructed toga apart and hastily throwing the sheet of his head again. I could barely think, every nerve wound tightly.

"Bella! Are you out here?" Her voice was closer now as she investigated the backyard. I could just barely see her through the trees.

Finally gathering some sense, I robotically tugged my underwear back up and patted my skirt down from where it had gathered at my hips indecently. I glanced down. There was nothing I could do for my poor bent, broken wings.

"Stay here," I said to Edward urgently. "Stay covered." Wiping a hand across my forehead, I felt that I was flushed and heated.

"Bella?" Alice called once more.

I stepped out from the tree line. "I'm here." My voice was rough. I'd been groaning too much.

Alice squinted in the darkness, though I knew my white outfit made me glow despite the blackness. Apparently my appearance was worse than I thought because she hurriedly rushed forward.

"Holy shit! What happened? Are you hurt?" she demanded, touching my face, concern all over her face before she looked over my shoulder, trying to see into the forest.

I thought I would be sick. "No, not hurt," I assured her hurriedly.

"What the fuck happened? Who did this to you?" Her eyes widened and her voice became low and ferocious. "Did someone rape you?"

"Jesus, no! You're the one that told me to get drunk and have a hookup," I groaned, flushing. "I was having sex when you interrupted."

And because she didn't know who it was, didn't know how thoroughly I had fucked her over, she giggled suddenly, relaxing. "Shit, really? I didn't know you were so daring." She sounded impressed.

"Neither did I," I said grimly.

She frowned at my tone. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you sure you're ok?"

I laughed, manic. Casper. "Yes, I'm fine," I cackled, losing it for a moment before coughing and settling myself. I'd freak out later. "It's just kind of embarrassing to be caught." I tried to look chagrinned.

"Is he still in the woods?" Alice asked, conspiratorial, gazing over my shoulder again.

I nodded, my heartbeat thudding in my throat.

"Who the hell is it?" Her eyes were glinting mischievously.

I stared at her, wide-eyed and utterly mute.

"Well, fine. Don't tell me, sassy pants. I'll make excuses for you. Go finish up," she laughed, winking. "But hurry up! I want to cut the cake!" She smiled once more and turned back to the house.

I was so numb that I could not even find it within myself to complain that she had bought a cake when I asked her not to go through the trouble. Not sure what else to do, I walked back to the woods, looking around for Edward in his white sheet.

I didn't feel anything when I saw that he had gone. I didn't have room for any emotion beyond detachment. Instead, I picked up my torn wings from the ground, shimmering slightly in the dark despite their brokenness. Alice would be upset.

Not remembering how I got there, I found myself inside my own house, crowded by faces that I knew I recognized, but could not consciously name. If I felt anything, it would have been pride because I almost acted normal. I smiled at people. I cut the cake, thanked Alice for such a lavish party even as she pursed her lips disapprovingly over my ruined wings, opened gifts, and said 'ooh' and 'ah' for what felt like hours, even posing for pictures as I was thanked for invitations and a great time. It was, without question, the best acting I'd done in all my life.

Finally – _finally_ – everyone left, the last person, Rosalie Hale, grinning down at Alice from her stilettos as they chatted, Alice's head barely clearing Rosalie's shoulders. Alice had apparently struck up conversation at one point, reaching for a hug as they said goodbye, pressing the side of her face into Rosalie's considerable cleavage with ill-disguised worship.

At another time, I was have been amused or even happy for Alice. But I was exhausted, the strain of the night taking its toll.

As we shut the door on Rosalie, we both stared at the mess leftover. Cups everywhere, plates half-filled with food, spilled beverages. It was a nightmare.

"Tomorrow," we both agreed at the same time.

Alice laughed and I managed a smile, climbing the stairs together towards my room. My parents would be pissed when they got home, but again, I found myself incapable of the appropriate emotion.

"Did you have a good time?" Alice asked.

"Yes, it was a fantastic party," I said, my perfect façade slipping a little bit now that the guests were all gone.

"What's wrong?"

I told a half-truth. "I'm really sore."

She grinned at me. "I'll bet you are, you little minx. I have to ask you: who was it?"

I nearly choked, my stomach rumbling with nausea. Shaking my head, I said, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"He . . . he h-had a sheet on. He was Casper," I breathed. My voice gained a bit more confidence as I realized I wouldn't have to fabricate someone that I supposedly fucked. "I never saw his face."

Alice held up her hands. "Wait a minute, you had sex at your own birthday party in the woods and you don't even know who banged you?"

I attempted a shy expression. "It was mysterious. Sexy."

"Mmhmm, yeah, ok. Well, I bet it will be easy to figure out who he was. It's not like we didn't know every single dude at that party." She frowned. "I didn't see anyone dressed as a ghost, though."

I shrugged. "He left after you interrupted us. I don't think he stayed very long at all so you probably didn't see him."

"I just can't even believe you did it," Alice laughed. "I mean, that's not like you at all. I guess that's my fault though. I plied you with alcohol."

I thought I would burst into tears if she said it was her fault again, that it might actually break the dam welled up inside me. This one was all on me.

"Was the sex good, at least?"

This was the only question that roused me out of my stupor, the one thing I could not lie about for some morbid reason. "The best I've ever had."

Alice's eyebrows shot up, impressed again. "Ok, so somebody with mad sexing skills . . . that narrows it down a lot, actually." She had, after all, slept with many of the boys at our school during her 'self-discovery'.

I shook my head. "Um, I think he might live on the reservation," I invented wildly. "I didn't recognize his voice at all."

"Hmm, a party crasher? I would be mad, but if you enjoyed yourself, I'll let this one slide. I'm pissed that he ruined your wings, though."

I wasn't sure I trusted myself to speak and attempted to wiggle out of my corset instead. Alice came to my rescue immediately, unlacing the back until I could breathe again. I wasn't sure I liked the sensation; being bound tightly held me all together and the physical release had me working doubly to control my anesthetization. Having long since shed any sense of modesty in front of Alice, I stepped out of my skirt, standing in my bra and underwear in the middle of the room.

She gasped.

I looked in the mirror.

There were tiny, crescent cuts at my hips where his nails had dug into me, even through the material of the corset. There was a bruise beginning to show at the base of my throat – had he held my throat? – and circlets of angry red around my upper arms. Again, I didn't remember him grabbing my arms, didn't remember the pain. Odd.

"Jesus Christ, Bella," Alice groaned, surveying me. "It may have been good sex, but thank god you don't get it regularly. You look abused."

I said nothing, taking the hair band out to free my ponytail, the locks drifting past my shoulder blades.

"Are you ok? You seem kind out of it."

I nodded. "I'm just tired and I had a lot to drink. I need some rest."

"Yeah, me, too. I'm beat. I'm just going to crash here."

"That's fine," I said, knowing we'd sleep side by side in my bed like usual, cringing internally all the same. I had sex with her fath – _god, no, don't even think about it yet. Later. Freak out when she leaves. But not before._

I mechanically changed into pajamas and performed the normal night time rituals before collapsing into my side of the bed. Despite my transgression, I was blessed with a dreamless, deep, instant sleep.

***V*V*V*V***


	3. The After

**Ah, the tenuous "morning after." I'm sorry it's taken so long. As always, real life is not nearly so exciting as what happens to my characters, but it does demand attention.**

**Enjoy.**

**-MsSailorman**

***V*V*V*V***

I just barely made out the outline of a glass of water on my bedside table before the brightness of my room immediately rendered me useless. Horrendous pain shot through my eyes and straight to my brain like icepicks.

"Gah," I groaned. Every single piece of me hurt, my head throbbing painfully.

"Oh good, you're up," said Alice cheerfully, her high voice feeling like a screwdriver at my temples.

I squinted carefully through my eyelashes and saw her hazy form at the foot of the bed. She was an early riser – god, I hated her.

"I brought you water and some aspirin. The coffee is downstairs. It's cold by now, but I can reheat it for you. I already cleaned up from the party, so don't worry about it. I even disposed of all evidence of alcohol before your parents got home." She seemed pretty pleased with herself, which I supposed she should be.

"You did all that? How long was I sleeping?" My throat felt gravelly and I wondered why. Something tugged at my memory, but I shrugged it off, my head aching too much to concentrate.

"It's almost one in the afternoon. I didn't want to wake you. I figured you'd be sleeping the booze off."

"Jesus, how much did I drink? I feel like shit. Everything hurts," I moaned, covering my face with a pillow to shut out the light and noise.

"You drank enough to fuck a ghost."

"What?" I asked from under my pillow.

"Your Native American dream boat," she reminded me.

Then it hit me. Casper. Holy fucking shit. It felt like a dream. And we'd almost been caught by – god, by _Alice_, of all people. I cringed and curled into fetal position, shame filling me. I couldn't believe the things I'd said, the things I'd done – the things _he'd _said, the things _he'd _done. The realization of our insanity, of how close we had been to ruining both of our ties to Alice, slammed into me like a brick wall. I felt raw enough that it seemed as if I had literally been thrown into a wall.

God, I was sore. I remembered wanting that at some point last night so that I would have the memory. Boy, did I get what I wished for. I ached all over. Especially where he had so roughly thrust into me – my groin throbbed, that indescribable feeling of being overstretched and overfilled running through my flesh. That part wasn't entirely unpleasant – my body even shuddered once as I helplessly remembered how good it had felt to be so . . . _owned _– and I thought I might hate myself more.

The mask of normalcy from last night shattered and I wailed, curling up on myself, my head feeling like it might split apart.

Alice, alarmed by my abrupt spiral into despair, rushed to my side, yanking the pillow from my face and cradling me in her arms. "Oh, Bella, it's ok," she crooned, petting my hair.

I cried harder. I didn't deserve her love, her trust; it hurt in more intangible ways than my physical pain to have her comfort me.

"I shouldn't have let you drink so much. I didn't think you would regret it like this," she said sadly, blaming herself.

I couldn't take it. "I need a doughnut," I told her when my tears subsided enough to be coherent. "From that little place in Clallum Bay." It would take her a while to get there and I knew she wouldn't refuse. For the love of god, I needed her to leave.

"Of course. Boston cream?" She was already up, grabbing her car keys.

"Yes, please," I whimpered. "Two."

"I'll be back in an hour. Drink your water and take the aspirin, ok?"

I nodded, turning away so she couldn't see my fresh wave of tears at her obvious concern. Once I heard the door shut, I thanked God I was alone. Charlie went fishing Sundays and Renee had a pottery class.

Though I'd intended to freak out only after Alice had gone, I found myself calmer instead. By myself, I didn't have to hide my facial expressions as I cycled through my memory of last night to determine exactly how much I was going to hate myself. It was hazy at some parts.

He'd come up to me as Casper. I said some drunken rubbish about being an adult, remembering my outburst that I had harbored feelings for him for a long time. We'd kissed.

I touched my lip and found the lower one had puffed up considerably, that it was raw.

And after the kiss? No, two kisses. What had I said? I struggled to remember.

_One night. _

Fuck. I had outright propositioned him, clearly the aggressor in every situation last night . . . but he . . . he had agreed, which was perhaps the most astounding thing of all. We had walked into the woods; I remembered that part. I'd been on my knees. The thought hit me like a bullet impact.

I had given Mr. Masen a blowjob.

_God, kill me now_.

I ran my tongue over my teeth, my lips, feeling my own mouth as if it would provide concrete proof that I had done it – or, better yet, that I hadn't.

But I knew the worst was coming as well and I remembered it easily. I'd called him Edward and he fucked me against a tree only dozens of yards from the house in which I had grown up. Hard. Rough. Like a crazed animal. I would have felt that part in the soreness of my body, even if I had not remembered entirely (which I did). And, lord help me, I had enjoyed it, wantonly exulted in every damn second of it.

Yes, I decided that was the worst thing I could have done, the worst crime I had committed against Alice – enjoyed myself. _The best I've ever had._ Fuck. But, of course, thinking of Alice reminded me.

I remembered the sheer panic of hearing Alice's voice call out for me, completely oblivious to my duplicity. My lies were harder to recall, but I knew the gist. And he'd been gone when I'd returned. I hadn't felt anything about that last night, but now? Now, I hurt. While he might have simply fled in case Alice decided to walk back into the woods, I didn't truly believe that. He had left me to fend off Alice by myself, had left my broken wings in the dirt. My stomach roiled.

Despite the hypocrisy and the fact that I didn't deserve any pity, let alone self-pity, I felt betrayed. Cheap. And I knew it was ridiculous. What else could I have expected him to do? But still, I did not know where we stood – what had been thinking as he ran away? Had he been numb like me? Was he feeling this guilt as strongly as I was? I doubted it. I had been the one to come on to him.

_We'll never speak of this again._

I'd promised him that. Of course, I'd had a vastly different outcome in mind, but still. Was I supposed to reach out to him? Tell him what my excuse was for Alice, what I had thought of our interlude, how I hated myself for loving the ache between my thighs? How my legs had quivered as I nearly came? Maybe he would want nothing to do with me now. Or maybe he would pretend everything was normal? I swallowed. I didn't know if I could do normal. At least, not yet. I wasn't sure I would even be able to look him in the eye – I would remember being on my knees, looking up into those green eyes, mesmerized by the sight of me.

_What a mess you've created, Bella._

Still, it wasn't as much of a mess as it could have been. Alice didn't know. And I would do anything to keep it that way.

Move away? Yes.

Sell my possessions? Absolutely.

Never talk to Mr. Masen again? That was my current plan anyway.

Take it all back if I could?

I paused. I felt thoroughly miserable with a hangover almost as debilitating as my crushing guilt. I wanted to lock myself in my room, to hide from the world and stay buried under covers and pillows. But for all of that, I admitted something to the secret part of myself, looking at the situation differently. If Alice had never interrupted, what would have happened?

Glorious orgasms for both of us, I knew. Then what? Maybe a post-orgasmic kiss, an embrace? We'd probably be awkward as the enormity of it came crashing down on us, but still, sated. My curiosity, my endless longing would be gone. Pretending nothing had happened would have been difficult even in an ideal situation, but perhaps I would not feel as much shame, as much guilt.

I supposed it wasn't that much different from the current situation, but I would have better footing with Mr. Masen, some idea of how to proceed. Maybe we would have talked a little bit afterwards, reiterated our protocol. They didn't exactly write manuals for this shit. However, I knew what would have remained – this tiny, fierce kernel of pride that was hidden in my chest, an inextinguishable flame that burned with _knowing_. The very reason I could not wholeheartedly say I would take it all back.

_I want you, too._

He had wanted me. And he had taken me just as I had wanted to be taken – albeit with a few more scratches and marks than I had in mind. But still.

_I had sex with Mr. Masen last night, _I thought to myself, wondering if stating it so bluntly a few times would take away the shock of it – because I was certainly still shocked. It felt like some movie rather than my life, but not one with a happy ending.

Feeling I had sufficiently run through last night's events in my mind, I returned to auto-pilot, obediently chugging my water, taking the aspirin, and crawling out of bed – very slowly. The light still pierced my eyes, but walking was manageable. To make the entire inventory complete, I had one last check-up. Waddling to the mirror – god, my legs hurt – I gingerly lifted my tank top, examining my injuries. The bruising at my throat and arms had darkened considerably, though the nail indentations at my hips were not as bad as I remembered. My lower lip was swollen and I looked as if I hadn't slept for two days given the dark circles under my haunted eyes, but that ended my physical checklist of maladies. The emotional trauma was yet to be determined, but the rest was negligible. Nothing I couldn't cover with sleeves and a scarf.

I took that very precaution, dressing in long sleeves and a scarf Alice had bought me two years ago, not wanting my parents to see the marks of my shame. I felt that with a cup of coffee and some concealer for the bags under my eyes, I'd almost look normal. If I could school my expression into something more neutral, of course. How the hell had I managed it last night?

Sighing, I began the painful descent downstairs, amazed to see that my house looked spotless, as if it had never seen the likes of two hundred teenagers dancing and drinking. Thank god for Alice. And, even better, there was indeed coffee. I poured, heated, doctored, sipped, and waited.

I was edging towards 'ok' by the time Alice returned with the doughnuts and she chatted as I dug in, pleased by the slightly greasy, sugared concoctions.

"There was the cutest girl working at the shop," she gushed. "Not as pretty as Rosalie, but she had this adorable little bob hairstyle." She gestured around her shoulders to indicate the length, sighing wistfully. "She had an engagement ring, though. So I guess that's a lost cause."

"That's a shame," I muttered in an approximation of my usual sympathetic tone.

"Oh, well. At least I'll be keeping busy to avoid thinking about my sad love life. Well, you will, too, of course."

"What?" Busy did not sound like an inviting prospect today. I'd rather go back to sleep and pretend the last twenty-four hours had not occurred.

"We were going to have our movie marathon today, remember?" Alice prodded.

"Oh, right," I mumbled. I had forgotten about our plans. "I don't know, Alice. I'm still not feeling super great." It wasn't a lie, though my main reasoning was that I would most likely burst into flames if I entered the Masen household – something akin to a demon trying to enter a holy place. Besides, Mr. Masen worked from home. He was a web designer, always dependably present. While I usually appreciated the chance to ogle him, it was not a pleasant prospect right now.

"I know you're still upset about last night," she said consolingly, rubbing my shoulder, "but that's why we should hang out and watch movies. It will get your mind off of it. Plus, you totally owe me for your birthday shindig."

I didn't try to argue that I hadn't wanted a party in the first place. Given the current status of things, it only took a tiny guilt trip from Alice to make me cave. She was right. I did owe her – more than she would hopefully ever know.

*V*V*V*V*

I mostly ignored my desire to jump out of my car on the way to Alice's house, though I did look out the window longingly several times. As I pulled into the familiar, winding driveway, I felt my dread growing with each propelling rotation of my truck's tires, following in the wake of Alice's canary yellow sports car.

She clicked the button to open the garage door and Mr. Masen's painfully present silver Volvo removed any shred of hope that perhaps he wasn't at home. I hadn't expected a different outcome, but I had dared to wish for a less uncomfortable option.

I took a deep breath, parking in my usual spot adjacent from the garage and willing myself towards opening the door and walking into the house.

"How's that hangover treating you?" Alice asked as I approached.

I groaned in response. If it wasn't for my thick sunglasses, I would have been covering my face and hissing. "I'm never drinking again." That was more due to my reprehensible actions as opposed to the hangover, though.

Alice laughed, the sound hurting my head. "I bet there are a few of our classmates thinking the same thing today."

_Yeah, well, our classmates haven't had sex with your father. _"Yeah, I bet."

"Aside from, um, your foray in the woods, did you have a good time?"

"Yes," I said truthfully. "You did a great job planning everything and everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves."

She smiled, gratified as she turned to head inside.

Internally preparing myself – and failing miserably – I followed Alice into the house that I knew as well as my own. It was odd how different it all looked now, how it stung to walk past the kitchen and remember the simpler times of last week when I had simply wanted rather than experienced_._

"Alice?" Mr. Masen's voice called from further inside. He was probably in his office.

My whole body clenched and I thanked god that Alice was in front of me and not a witness to the shudder that ran through me. That voice had been breathing in my ear last night, egging me towards orgasm. _Get it together._

"Hey, dad. I'm home."

His voice sounded closer, accompanied by the sound of footsteps. "Did you stay over at Bel – did you spend the night?" Could he not even say my name now?

"Yeah, I told you yesterday."

He came into view and my first impression was that he looked awful. He hadn't shaved and his eyes were bloodshot as if he'd been awake too long. Those very eyes met mine with a jolt of surprise, not having expected me to show my face around here, I supposed. I simply stared back, not sure what expression was being broadcast.

The smell of pine needles, his hands rough on my breasts, the ache between my legs as he pounded into me. The sensations came back to me with startling clarity.

I blushed and broke eye contact first.

"Bella and I are going to watch movies," Alice continued, unusually oblivious to the tension.

"That's fine," Mr. Masen said tightly. "I'll be in my office." He abruptly departed.

"Somebody's cranky today. Probably because he thinks you want to bang me," Alice muttered, shaking her head and continuing towards the living room where shelves upon shelves of DVD awaited us.

Of course she wouldn't know how drastically I had dispelled that illusion last night. "At least he didn't tell us to keep the door open," I forced myself to joke.

Alice rolled her eyes.

I feigned as much interest as I could in the process of choosing a movie to watch, but Alice seemed to take pity on me and we settled in for _Rocky Horror Picture Show_, my gaze wavering towards Mr. Masen's office door every few minutes.

Sometime around the "Time Warp," Alice's phone buzzed.

"Holy shit," she squealed. "Rosalie Hale just texted me!"

Struggling to formulate the appropriate response, I widened my eyes and quickly asked, "Oh my god, what did she say?"

"'I had a great time last night,'" Alice read from her phone, grinning ear to ear, her thumbs already twitching as she replied.

_ Me, too. __J__ You looked really pretty in that dress, by the way._ _– A_

"Is that coming on too strongly?" she demanded of me.

I shrugged. As if I had any modicum of control over coming on too strongly. "I don't think so."

She tilted her phone for me to see as Rosalie responded.

_Thank you. You did, too. I loved that color on you. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie with me. – R_

"Holy shit," Alice repeated, face flushed. "What should I say?"

"Say yes." She'd only been drooling over Rosalie forever.

_I'd love to! When? – A_

_ Are you free now? – R_

As Rosalie's last message came in, I knew what would happen even before Alice turned her large, guilty eyes towards me. "Go on," I said calmly, secretly relieved to have an early end to our own little movie party. "This is what you've been wanting and waiting for. Have fun."

"Are you sure? We've only been here twenty minutes."

"I'm still hung-over anyway. I'm going to go home and get some rest."

Throwing her arms around me, she hugged me tightly. "You're the best. I'll tell you how it goes. Love you."

"Love you, too," I responded to her retreating back – she was already ascending the stairs to, presumably, change into a cuter outfit.

Turning off the movie, I slowly stood and stretched my aching muscles, once more reminded how thoroughly I had been worked over last night. Without conscious thought, my eyes settled on Mr. Masen's closed door, the tangled web of emotions I harbored ensnaring itself once more. I was frustrated and guilty and ecstatic and disbelieving and angry and hurt and ashamed. It was all so dizzying to consider.

As if he sensed my wandering gaze, his door suddenly swung open. The dark circles under his eyes grew more pronounced as his face paled at the sight of me. I stood frozen in the doorway to the living room.

Unsure what else to say as the silence grew leaden and frigid between us, I breathed, "Hi." _Fuck. Smooth, Swan. You gave this man a blowjob last night._

He scoffed, scrubbing his hands over his haunted face. "Where's Alice?"

Taken aback, I blinked, drawing a million meanings from his tone within a few moments. Why was he mad at me? Because I seduced him? Because I was breaching our agreement? I had only said hello. Or was I not supposed to talk to him at all? "She's upstairs getting ready to leave for a movie."

"I thought you guys were already watching movies."

I shrugged. "She found better company."

He paused, staring right through me. "You should leave."

My mouth fell open before I quickly snapped it shut, my teeth clicking audibly. With my skin flushing hot and cold and then hot again, I examined his unyielding green eyes. Had it only been last week that he had gently helped me off the floor and plied me with an icepack?

"Fine," I breathed, deciding it wasn't worth my pride to argue. I wanted to go back to bed and I was humiliated, twice rejected now and still angry over him leaving last night. I'd given my word we wouldn't discuss this anyway.

"I didn't mean to be harsh," he sighed. As I turned, his hand grasped at my arm, stopping me. I hissed as he encircled the sensitive, bruised flesh underneath my shirt, jerking away.

Wide-eyed, he stared at me with confusion.

"Sorry, I just – there . . . you left – when you . . . ," I stammered uselessly, rubbing the afflicted area. "There's a bruise here," I finally admitted, struggling to communicate without directly referencing last night.

The coldness in his eyes melted away as intensity suffused his face, understanding the nature of my injury. "Your arms?" he asked tonelessly. His hands flexed at his sides as if grasping the air.

I nodded.

"Where else?" he said, strained.

Hesitation must have been plain on my face as my eyes wheeled around, suspicious that Alice would appear any moment and worried about carrying any conversation at all.

Sighing, he beckoned me into his office with the movement of one long finger. What happened to 'you should leave'? I trailed after him reluctantly. He held the door open for me, eyes averted, forcing me to walk right past him – god, the electricity of his proximity was nearly crippling.

_Is it too late to run? _

As if he heard my thoughts, he shut the door.

His office looked the same as always. Slightly chaotic and warm with piles of books and haphazard papers everywhere, though the calming lighting that usually streamed through the windows was shut out by heavy curtains. The picture of Alice he kept on his desk was facedown.

Following my swift appraisal, I met his eyes. He was more unguarded now that we were alone and I could see he possessed a guilty expression, a mirroring of my own. "Are you ok?" I asked, despite myself. Even with the shit storm brewing around us, I couldn't help but be concerned by his red eyes and unusually stressed expression.

He laughed hollowly. "Why would I be ok?" He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face once more.

"You're hung-over," I noted, recognizing the signs even as I experienced them myself. "How much did you drink after you left?" _After you left me alone in the woods. _I figured the ounce or two leftover from my bottle had not been enough to entirely inebriate him.

"Enough," he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair. "But this isn't about me. I wanted to know about you."

"Why the concern now?"

His voice sharpened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You disappeared when . . ." – _when I needed you_ – "when Alice showed up."

Eyeing me askance, he straightened, adding to his already impressive height. Errantly, I realized how much he had must have had to stoop to kiss me last night. "What else was I supposed to do? Wait for her to come closer and realize her dad was . . . well, realize what was happening?"

"You could have just gone a bit further into the woods and waited for me like I asked you to," I said irritably, my hurt manifesting angrily once more.

He threw his hands up in the air. "I think if anything is clear about last night, it's that neither of us was thinking logically," he replied cynically. "I panicked."

Panic. I understood that emotion, at least. So maybe he hadn't left because he suddenly decided he hated me. I remained silent, turning over his words.

"How badly did I hurt you?" His gaze drifted over my arms pointedly.

"I wanted you to," I argued, strangely defending him. "I wanted you to leave me with some . . . I just wanted it." I remembered how we'd acted, how we'd been starving animals, beasts intent on satiating one specific hunger.

"Tell me," he ordered more forcefully, ignoring me.

"My neck," I admitted. "And my hips. My lower lip is swollen, too, but that's it." I didn't mention the soreness between my thighs, figuring that was implied with how rough he'd been.

"Oh, is that all?" he asked sarcastically, eyeing my mouth critically.

I frowned, biting the lip in question. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he snapped. "You look like a rape victim."

I gasped, stung. He hadn't even seen the bruises. "Edward –," I began.

He flinched. "Don't call me that. For Christ's sake, you were drunk out of your goddamn mind and I just acted . . . I shouldn't have . . . I took advantage of you," he finally admitted. "Look at yourself. You were in no state to consent to something like that and I practically savaged you," he hissed, looking disgusted.

"Stop it!" I snapped. "It wasn't like that and you know it."

"Do I?"

"I knew what I was doing," I stated hotly.

"You were dru –," he began.

"I'm not drunk now and I'm telling you: I knew what I was doing. Is it so hard to believe that I _enjoyed _myself?"

His mouth moved to form the word, testing it even as his eyes grew with new appraisal. It was as if he had not imagined a single version of reality where I wasn't some fragile child incapable of taking pleasure in sex – sure, it was wrong, but that didn't change how I felt. And maybe – just maybe – there was some tiny, selfish piece of me that wanted to continue to revel in the bliss of sex, regardless of the consequences. I couldn't allow him to tarnish what little salvageable benefits I had received.

"I _hurt _you," he whispered lethally – as if that negated everything I was trying to communicate.

I laughed, the noise coming out all wrong. "Rough sex is a thing, you know."

Despite his consternation, fate had other plans than this conversation.

"Bella?" Alice's voice called from upstairs. "I'm having a fashion emergency. Help."

Once again, she was interrupting my time with Mr. Masen, reminding me how impossible the situation was.

"I'm coming," I shouted back to placate her, already hurrying to the door. I stopped short. "What are we doing now?"

He stared at me blankly. "What do you mean?"

"Are we pretending everything is normal?"

With the kind of arched eyebrow expression I had never perfected, he considered my words. "Can you do normal?"

"Can you?" I fired back, unprepared to answer him. I wasn't sure. I'd asked myself that very question this morning. I would try my best for Alice's sake, at least. It wasn't as if I had many other options.

"Yes," he said unflinchingly.

For some reason, that bothered me. Was it that easy for him to brush it off? To brush _me _off? He hadn't done a very good job of it when he saw me in the kitchen.

"I'm assuming we're not talking about this again, then," I surmised. It had been our agreement, after all.

"Only if you feel like pressing sexual assault charges," he muttered darkly.

"Jesus Christ. I _wanted _you to fuck me. I _wanted _to be sore. You didn't do anything to me I haven't fantasized about every day for five damn years," I snapped. _Except for leaving_. "Look, I have a massive headache right now and I am tired and emotionally drained, so don't you dare make this out like you took advantage of some poor, inexperienced girl. I have not had nearly enough coffee for this shit and I have enough problems without trying to keep you from feeling guilty as well."

He flinched at my crass words. "How can you _not _feel guilty?"

"I do," I said carefully, forcing myself to breathe normally and reign in the bitch-fest struggling to unleash itself. "But I would still make the same choices over again."

Staring as if he had never truly seen me before, he shook his head and seemed to return to himself. "It was wrong. We both should have chosen differently. You know that."

That hurt. For all the time I spent berating myself this morning, I instinctively knew that no amount of money on this earth would have convinced me to part with the memories of last night. Sure, I was going to Hell. But to have finally experienced the one thing I dreamed about after all these years? Priceless.

Struggling to cover my battered emotions, I shrugged.

"Bella, you coming?" Alice called again.

"Yeah," I shouted back. "Just a minute!"

He sighed. "Just go."

"If we're doing normal after I leave this room, then I want it clear that I don't regret it and you didn't hurt me – well, not in a way I didn't want, anyway."

He nearly groaned, eyes focusing on my lip again. "You've made yourself clear. That doesn't change that it was a mistake and that it'll never happen again."

"I know," I said. "Well, I guess I'll see you around then . . . Mr. Masen."

His eyes closed for a second, jaw tensing, and I knew he was remembering, just as I was, how I had bravely used his first name as I gave him a blowjob last night. "See you around."

I closed the door behind me, leaving him to stand in his office alone. It was like shutting off a part of my mind as I willed myself to not dwell. I'd nitpick every piece of the conversation when I was in my own home and alone. Not now.

Sighing, I ascended the stairs to help Alice with whatever imagined catastrophe was befalling her.

***V*V*V*V***

**How are we feeling about this conversation?**


End file.
